Two Thousand Miles
by Unhappy Creatures
Summary: It took them two thousand miles from Terminal Island to Santa Rosalia. Easy ride for a pair of professionals, that is if they didn't have so much baggage: a kid, cops on their tail, and a bag of money that Joe's friends would really, really like to get back. Eventual Jensen/Joe.
1. Chapter 1

"Your plan sucks," Joe said.

Jensen looked up. It was dark, he could barely see the other's face. Not that it mattered, Jensen was still too focused on keeping his heart in check. Still beating fast from the chase, the adrenaline pumping hard through his veins. In a weird sense, he actually missed this. The thrill.

On the other hand, he was supposed to be over this by now. Grown up, grown _old_, responsible. There was one reason, and one reason alone why he got out of Terminal Island. Fuck his freedom, he just wanted his daughter back. The only thing left from Suzy.

"Yeah well, not that I remember you volunteering an idea or two," Jensen shot back. Joe grinned, spitting what was left of his cigarette and squeezing the butt into the dirty floor with the heel of his shoe.

Prison shoes. They needed to get rid of those as well. Just in case. But considering the time limit, Joe hadn't managed to get them anything but a pair of godawful looking shirts and some pants that Jensen hoped wouldn't fall down his hips how big they were. A belt would have been nice, but beggars could not be choosers.

Inmates even less.

"I know a guy," Joe said like that explained everything. "Could probably get us across the border. It's gonna cost you, though."

"Do I look like I have money?" Jensen bit back. It had seemed like a good idea, before the race. They'd get out, Joe would have someone on the outside dumping clothes for them. They'd get out. Everything else was in the details. And that's where the devil lay.

"We'll think of something," Joe said. His voice was surprisingly calm to begin with. That was definitely strange, all things considered. And Jensen had to learn the hard way that everything, always had to be considered.

Especially the fact that Machine Gun Joe was a known psychopath with no temper back in Terminal Island. He'd get off like a broken switch, if rumours were anything to go by. For someone who'd killed half a dozen people on the outside, it wasn't exactly surprising to be equally unadjusted inside the system. That was what Jensen knew about the man, but he'd been out of options and, quite frankly, desperate when he had asked.

If there were two people who had the chance, it was surely the fastest. And Joe had promised, if Jensen got them over the bridge, he'd take care of the rest.

They hadn't had much time to talk about that rest, back then.

Plenty of time now. Jensen had no trouble sharing his lack of ideas, his only desire being getting his daughter back and pulling his shit together.

And that was what Joe disapproved of.

They weren't going to be pulling their shit together and living normal lives as long as people had eyes, cops had guns and any type of media existed, free or not. Not in the States at least. Not with a kid.

Jensen wasn't that much of an idiot.

"_We_?" he asked, slightly incredulous.

"Yeah, we," Joe said dryly. "Two brains are better than one."

"Is that a compliment I'm hearing there?" Sure, this wasn't the best time for jokes, Jensen knew as much. Or maybe it was, considering Joe was grinning, something Jensen couldn't remember seeing before. It was eerily _not_ as scary as it would have seemed at first.

"Look, _Igor_," Joe said eventually, his grin turning into a smirk that didn't make the entire situation any better, "I'm pretty sure you don't have all that many friends on the outside. And I do. But none of them drives as fast as you do. Not even close," he added. "And call me paranoid, but that's a skill that might come in handy pretty fucking soon. So yeah, we. Unless you have anything against it." He got up from where he'd been sitting and Jensen followed the man with his eyes. "And in that case, you're free to stay right where you are."

Joe walked towards the end of the train car and craned his head, looking at Jensen sideways and grinning, again with the smug face of a man who knew exactly what his worth was.

"We're stopping in Alameda in a few minutes. I'm sure the cops will be thrilled to have you." And with that, Joe jumped.

Jensen followed.

* * *

It must have been a loud noise that shook Jensen out of his sleep, even though all he could hear now was the rhythmic ride of the freight train over the rails. He opened his eyes and it took him a moment to start recognising the shapes in the dark, crates and boxes. Metal, all around them was metal. It stank like it, mixed with engine grease and rust, and it still reminded him of his last job.

Wrong thoughts to have right now. Wrong thoughts.

His head hurt, all the way across the skull and down his neck. He could do with a coffee, but he knew that privilege was far from the grasp of his hands right now. They were runaways, and Jensen was simply going to have to tough it out.

No coffee. Or painkillers. Even though there were parts of his body that hurt as only muscles could after a good fight, mixed with constant running and jumping from one hiding spot to the other in hope no one was going to see them. Jensen couldn't afford going back.

All he wanted to do was roll to the other side, squeeze into a ball and hope he could fall asleep yet again, sleep his pain away.

But the confined space between crates only offered enough for him to stretch his legs and groan.

Then he heard a chuckle, quickly followed by a flick of a lighter. Then there was Joe, and that smug face of his, lit by the burning end of his cigarette. "And the sleeping beauty awakens."

Jensen wanted to roll his eyes, but that would have required enduring pain he was not ready for. His head, namely. Yes, caffeine would have been nice. At this point, Jensen was tempted to ask for a cigarette, but if his memory served him well, he was on his way to being a free man again. He was not pissing on his luck by gambling with his health, not now, not ever.

He'd gamble for a Vicodin, though.

Jensen forced himself to roll onto his other hip, letting his knees finally have some mercy as he stretched his legs as much as the space allowed. He'd have to get up soon, he knew that. If only to stop his joints from turning even stiffer. One couldn't run as quickly with stiff knees and run he'd have to.

And then there was the issue of a full bladder too. Lovely.

"How long was I out?" he managed to whisper, more like croak because his throat hurt too. Not as in shape as he'd thought he was. Then again, he had been preparing for prison brawls, not train chases.

Joe shrugged. "Half an hour, maybe more," he said and blew smoke out through his mouth.

"_Jesus_." Well, if there was a faster way for Jensen to pull his shit together, he was certainly not going to discover it any time soon.

"Don't worry," Joe continued, still smug, still too annoying for someone Jensen owed his freedom to. And then some. "I kept watch."

Jensen rubbed his eyes, his face, his throat. He was seriously hoping he wasn't about to get sick too. He felt like it, and then he felt like an idiot for complaining as much. He was a free man, they hadn't been caught yet and, from that little he managed to catch when switching trains up at Alameda, something had happened at Terminal Island to slow down the pursuit.

"Thanks," Jensen said and Joe nodded. "The hell are we?"

"L.A.," the man said, his smile growing a fraction. "Now, if you'd been sleeping a few more minutes, I'd be kicking you off myself." There was humour in the man's voice and Jensen found himself chuckling regardless of the fact that, this little time he'd gotten to know Joe, his threat was probably honest. Maybe. Hopefully not.

Not exactly the most comforting of thoughts. "Why thank you."

"My pleasure," Joe added and he was grinning around his cigarette while Jensen did his best not to react. Though he wasn't sure whether reaction would come in the form of bursting out laughing or punching the man.

On a second thought, Jensen knew he _was_ supposed to be thankful to Joe. Unlike himself, Joe had connections. People that could help them, get them out of the country. For a price. Not that Jensen had any money on himself, but at least the option was there. As well as Joe's assurance that things would work out with time. Or Jensen had been hallucinating those short few minutes that they'd talked before sleep claimed him.

Jensen wasn't sure what all of that meant, but considering the situation they were both in, he knew he had no other option but to trust Joe.

Oh, how the great had fallen. Six months ago, all Jensen worried about was whether he'd manage to keep his job. Now, his life was in the hands of a murderous sociopath.

Then again, six months ago Jensen was a husband and a father with too short of a temper and not that much luck. Right now, he was a felon, a runaway, a lady killer. How the great had fallen indeed.

* * *

As much as Jensen wished to have made fun of the clothes Joe had provided for them, he had to admit they weren't standing out as much in the city. Not exactly the image Jensen wished to project of himself, but that was the whole point of looking like a gay couple that looted a Hawaiian thrift store.

Not that he'd ever _say_ those words aloud. Just thinking them bordered on criminal.

It was early morning already, the sun had long risen up the horizon. Jensen felt his eyes burn from the fact that he'd had exactly thirty minutes of sleep in the last twenty four hours. He wasn't about to complain, but he sure as hell felt jealous of the fact that none of this showed on Joe, who still seemed to be capable of assessing their situation, the safety on the street, warning Jensen about any police car that might have passed them by. Even though Jensen felt he'd had a lot more to lose in comparison, not like his body gave a damn to finally stop trying to shut off.

But he couldn't sleep. Not around here. South Central was a mess, even in comparison. Jensen had been to Los Angeles a few times before, as a tourist mostly. Never really wished to live here as things started going down. Not a great place to raise a family five years ago, and certainly not after the government, in their desperate attempt to cut the losses everywhere they could, completely gave up on the city.

Sure, the buildings were still standing tall, but the streets hadn't been cleaned in a while. Most garbage cans were full and there was trash all around them anyway. It wouldn't have surprised Jensen if the workers were on strike again. There was no way of knowing, considering where he'd been for the last half a year. Public sector hadn't been on his interest list.

Well, beyond the police, of course, but not like they seemed to be bothering to visit these streets that often. In this case, Jensen considered it a bonus.

"So, this is where you live, eh?" He had no idea why he bothered with something as dumb as small talk, but all these kids looking at him suspiciously were grating on his nerves.

Joe made that dismissive snort again before he turned a corner. Jensen followed.

There was a small house there, looking slightly better than the rest of the neighbourhood. Not like millionaires lived in it, but definitely better than most could afford. Perfectly picturesque, all the way to the kid sitting on the porch and playing a video game or something.

"Just be quiet," Joe warned him as he pulled his makeshift hat off. Funny, Jensen thought, a serial killer with some actual manners.

Jensen decided against tugging his hands into his pants pocket, no matter how much more comfortable that would have made him feel. The kid might have looked focused on his game, but in the end even Jensen could see that he kept one of his eyes at the weird pair. And the way his shirt folded, he probably had a gun on him too. Not that he was hiding that fact or anything.

Joe pressed the doorbell but the knob turned before it even got a chance to ring. A tall man stepped out, bigger than both of them. He did shoot a glare Jensen's way, but Joe was already grinning.

"Well, I'll be damned," the man said, still looking grim. "They said they got you." His eyes slid towards Jensen, and he quirked one eyebrow. Jensen decided to listen to Joe and he kept his mouth shut.

"Didn't I tell you not to trust everything you see on TV." Joe kept his voice nonchalant up to a point. Their host, or owner of the house, or whatever the hell that he was, took a few long seconds before he finally laughed and stepped aside, letting them both in.

The kid on the porch relaxed and seemed to focus back to his video game.

Walking into the house, Jensen felt a heat wave hit him. It was much stuffier inside, true reminder of how god awful Pacific falls could be. Without the wind cooling them out in the open.

"Who's the pretty boy?" the man eventually asked and Joe chuckled.

"Jensen, meet Zane. Zane, Jensen Ames."

_Zane_ pursed his lips at Jensen's attempt for offering a handshake. "Jensen?" he asked.

"Like the car," Joe added before Jensen could, with more than enough sarcasm. "He prefers Igor."

Zane harrumphed, obviously not in the least impressed. "Coffee?" he asked and suddenly Jensen loved him more than he ever loved anyone in his life.

* * *

Jensen might have felt uncomfortable sleeping in another person's bed. Especially because he'd never met said person before. And _especially_ because he knew there was some criminal activity going on in the basement (he'd heard voices earlier, and he wasn't an idiot). On top of it all, he was a wanted man.

But, the moment his body touched the mattress of a very ugly, pink and frilly bed (which Zane's mother had died in, even, which of course served to make the entire situation all the more comfortable), Jensen passed out.

It was night when he woke up. But not all that dark, considering there was a street lamp right in front of the bedroom window

This was one of the more stupid things he'd done in the recent history. But he hadn't had much choice, it was either this or sleeping on the streets and, from what he'd seen of Los Angeles, this was a better option.

Now, if only he could afford a shower. Or a new set of clothes. These were bound to get dirty soon, and the fact that Jensen managed to fall asleep in them didn't help much. Then again, that actually didn't sound half as bad as appearing in public in that shirt for god knows how many future days.

He thought about asking Joe about it, but decided not to leave the room just in case. As long as they thought he wasn't snooping around, Jensen had a feeling he might actually make it. He really doubted these people would spare him otherwise. Joe obviously trusted them enough to pay them a visit twenty four hours after a jailbreak. Pretty certain they weren't the upstanding citizen kind. Or merciful.

But he didn't have to wait long. Soon, he heard the footsteps up the stairs and the bedroom door opening. It was Joe, with a tray of food, which he discarded onto a night stand before turning the light on.

"Breakfast in bed," the man said, that angry expression perpetually stuck on his face. Together with the glare that Jensen had to get used to whether he liked it or not.

"How fucking romantic," Jensen countered and Joe just rolled his eyes and bounced into a sofa

"Zane wants us out by morning," he said. Jensen was too sleep laced to respond beyond slowly dragging himself towards the tray. A sandwich. A messy sandwich at that, but it seemed to be big enough. And a cup of coffee. Well, Jensen started to love Zane even more than before. "Giving us a car."

"Lovely friends you've got," Jensen added before digging his teeth into the bread. Talking didn't seem of utmost importance at that point any more.

"Something happened yesterday," Joe continued now that he knew Jensen couldn't interrupt him. And Jensen didn't even bother, food was a lot more important. "About Hennessey." Well, that pulled his attention alright. "She's dead."

"Fuck," Jensen managed through half a bite.

"You _are_ aware of the fact this makes things a lot more difficult."

"Piper," Jensen said. Holy fuck. As much as he wanted that Hennessey bitch dead, there was no way the company wasn't going to try and pin it on them. Which meant cops _everywhere_.

Joe snorted and folded his arms over his chest. "How old is your kid?"

Jensen looked at his sandwich, wishing he'd had his appetite back. If only Joe had bothered to keep quiet for ten minutes longer. Hell, even five. "Eight months," Jensen said. Well, will be in five days. Jensen had been counting the days. Days that she spent with her _new family_. With her new relatives. With her new friends. While Jensen had been staring into a bleak, ugly wall and wishing against better judgement that he could actually see her.

Sure, he was out, but that didn't change the fact that he had no idea where she was. He had the address, and the house was probably under surveillance twenty four seven. If they hadn't taken the entire family somewhere safe already. That was what he would have done.

Joe whistled. "That small?" he asked, but Jensen didn't bother responding. "Where she at?"

"Lompoc," Jensen said and Joe snorted.

"Well, lucky you," the man leaned forward, "just on my way."

Right.


	2. Chapter 2

While having a car that wasn't marked as stolen was a blessing, the fact that it was a Korean didn't give Jensen much comfort. Sure it would save them gas money, but in all honesty, last time Jensen was in a Kia, he was in driving school, and twenty miles an hour seemed incredibly fast.

"You you do know if cops spot us-" Jensen said and Joe made one of his typical dismissive grunts. It was strange that, for a man Jensen had exchanged under a hundred words with, he could already properly label Joe's grunts and snorts and eye rolls.

"Well, thank god it ain't you who's driving then," Joe said and slid his eyes towards Jensen for a second.

Jensen snorted. "Then I might as well draw a bullseye on my forehead," he added. Joe kept his eyes on the road, but Jensen could damned well see the switch in his body language. This was just a typical manly brawling, a pissing contest, nothing more. No immediate danger in the form of being shoved out of a moving car.

Still, Jensen glanced at the lock bar and pressed his elbow onto the almost scorching hot plastic. It burnt his skin for a few seconds, but soon it was nothing but the relaxing feel of wind over his arm. Oh, did he miss that.

"I wouldn't get my wife this tin can," Jensen added. Joe looked like he was tempted to bite his own tongue not to smirk.

"Don't look a gifted horse in the mouth," he said. "Your mother never taught you that?"

"Oh, now you'll teach me manners?" Jensen teased. Joe just breathed, slowly, evenly and loudly enough for Jensen to get it.

He decided not to push it. Sure, ever since getting out of Terminal, Joe's entire behaviour turned a good one hundred and eighty degrees. The silent, forever brooding man that emanated nothing but the fact that he was on the verge of a psychotic breakdown seemed to be gone. Yes, he was still quiet, snappish, dismissive, but Jensen seriously couldn't think of a single person who would have volunteered to help him get his daughter back _just like that_. For the fun of it.

Unless they had some sinister intent under that offer, but with Joe Jensen simply couldn't gamble.

In the end the man might turn him in to save his own ass, there was always that, but right now Jensen's options were limited enough.

And having a car was a very good thing. Regardless of it being a fucking first generation Rio.

Jensen pushed his elbow over the rolled down window and let his lower arm fall over. He was actually free, something he was going to need a few more days of digesting before his mind finally wrapped around it. He was a free man and he could feel the air cool the skin on his arm, run between his fingers and keep on pushing at his palm. This was perfect.

For now, he just decided to enjoy it, let Joe drive him in silence as the scenery around them changed. It was a shame, they couldn't afford to take the highway, just in case. Someone was bound to monitor them, or at least the camera footage. Lately, they seemed to have been installing them everywhere.

It would take longer, sure, but at least the scenery was nicer. First the stony peaks of Thousand Oaks, slowly switching to cotton fields of Camarillo. With the sky the perfect blue. And Jensen Ames was obviously turning into a poet.

"So, you mind telling me how exactly is Lompoc on your way to Miami?" he decided to break the silence once they were reaching Ventura, and he could smell the salty sea air again. He was curious, but not curious enough to break the taboo of asking how the hell did Joe plan on crossing seven state lines to get there.

"Nosy shit," Joe said after a long pause. "For someone so ugly." And those dark, always threatening eyes slid towards Jensen again. "Surprised you managed for this long. If you were with my guys, we would've cut that tongue of yours years ago."

Jensen chuckled, eyes sliding towards the open window and all the green and grey shifting around them. This was life. Suzy might have grounded him (and would have, for life, and she would have been worth every second of it), but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't missed this.

"There's a place I need to be," Joe ended up saying, and it instantly pulled Jensen's attention at the man. In all honesty, he hadn't expected to get an explanation. Joe wasn't much of a talker to begin with. So in a way, this was entering a new territory. "People I need to see. Before Miami."

"All fine by me," Jensen said. "But if this in any way puts my daughter in danger, you better tell me now."

"We iare/i in danger, you moron," Joe said. "We've been the moment we got off that bridge. You sure you want to put your daughter through that?"

Jensen didn't answer. No point in doing that, Joe had managed to nail it rather well. Joe also didn't expect the answer.

Still, it was the eternal question that had been bothering Jensen ever since the cops first put the cuffs around his wrists. Ever since he'd seen the blood on the kitchen floor because, unlike Suzy, Jensen wasn't the parent material. Then again, Suzy's words to that were, inobody was/i. So it didn't matter.

"Hungry?" Joe eventually pulled Jensen out of his musings, stopping the car by some run down looking shop. Jensen made a small nod. He actually was.

* * *

By the time they reached Lompoc, it was already late afternoon. Joe was kind enough to buy them both dinner. Mostly due to the fact that it was Joe who had all the money and Jensen wasn't in the argumentative mood right now. Nor was he tempted to try his hand at pickpocketing. Not after all these years, not with all this fire at his tail.

They needed food. God only knows what was waiting for them at that house. Jensen wished he could have afforded to buy some baby supplies as well, but those were going to have to wait for now. Two scruffy looking guys buying diapers and baby food in the vicinity of a home where police was surely expecting Jensen to show up wouldn't have been the smartest thing ever.

The plan so far was, go to Lompoc, get Piper, get the fuck out.

They left Zane's car by the church and walked around until they found a decent enough car parked close to the elementary school. Figures, Jensen thought, there'd be no cameras around the school. Back when he served in the Penitentiary, it still belonged to the state and the conditions had been manageable. Crowded but manageable. From what he'd heard about Lompoc now was about the influx of private cash and with that, crime which it brought into the community.

He remembered the school as an old, but still a well off building. Now, it looked mirrored the decay of the rest of the city all too well. And to think Jensen remembered Lompoc as simple and peaceful. A place to raise a family.

In between him and his "friends" wreaking havoc down the streets that summer.

Piper's new parents owned a house up the hill. A posh neighbourhood that offered a welcome respite from the city below that seemed a lot busier than Jensen's memory offered.

He was driving because he knew the way. And that almost proved a mistake, because his heart was pumping hard by the time they reached the house. Jensen parked the car in a nearby clearing and decided to wait.

If the cops were on the lookout, they were bound to show themselves eventually.

Joe rolled down the window and lit himself a smoke. "Still sure about that?" he asked and Jensen craned his head to look at the man. Who didn't have the courtesy to blow smoke out of the open window, obviously. "If I had a house like that... damn." Joe shook his head.

"Stay at the wheel," Jensen ordered as he finally got enough courage to step out of the car. Somewhere in the back of his head, he thought about going back to the car, wait until it was late enough. But he knew, Piper was an early sleeper. Done before the evening news and screaming her little lungs out well before dawn. Unless that changed. Kids changed. Six months was a long time.

And it was dark enough now not to be recognised. Not too late for one of the well meaning or noisy neighbours to call the cops. Or for the alarms to be turned on.

He was risking either way, but right now, he simply couldn't iwait/i.

The house was big, two storey with a huge yard and probably a pool in the back. He guessed the nursery would be the room with the butterflies painted on the windows. Not the best of his logical processes, but people tended to be simple like that.

He got up the house, that much was easy, and the window slide roll open. Of course, nobody here worried about people climbing up their front walls, not in this part of the neighbourhood.

Jensen stepped inside quietly and pretty much felt his heart stop when he saw his daughter.

So big. So different. So _Piper_.

It actually ached him to wake her up, no matter how much he wanted to hold her tight right now. After all these months, he missed the smell of her. And he gently pushed his fingers under her tiny body, pulled her up and hushed her as he started making the smallest of complaints, still obviously dazed with sleep.

It was her. HIs daughter. In his arms.

He really hadn't expected this. After _all this time_.

"Put her down."

By the time Jensen's mind registered the voice, he was already looking into the barrel of the gun and squeezing his daughter tighter.

"I said, put her idown/i," the man repeated. From the picture, Jensen remembered him as the father.

"She's my daughter," Jensen said softly. Keeping Piper from waking up was the imperative. And besides, this man didn't seem like the type to fire that gun any time soon. Not with Piper in Jensen's hands. But he probably also knew Jensen wouldn't be willing to risk his daughter's life to test this theory.

Yes, Jensen definitely wouldn't.

Then the man glanced behind himself, behind open door. "Sarah?" he yelled. Piper stirred some more. "Sarah, it's him. Call them!" The man wasn't looking at him, too busy glancing back, and Jensen was tempted. Just one step. One step and he'd get the gun. But he had to hold Piper, and she started moving.

Just one more step.

The man's eyes jerked back at Jensen and the sound of the TV downstairs became louder. "iSarah/i?!" he yelled, eyes on Jensen the entire time, and his hands were gripping the weapon nervously. Piper woke up fully and started twitching, making sleepy, confused noises that were verging on crying.

The seconds seemed to last forever, the face of the other man covering with the sheen of sweat as his hands kept on twitching, shaking. At this point, Jensen hoped the moron wasn't about to fire out of fear and nervousness alone.

He tried to make the smallest of steps backwards, but it was pointless. There was too much to cross to the window.

And then he heard footsteps and soon another couple entered the room. The woman, Sarah, face blank with fear, eyes glazed, lips trembling. And it was no wonder, considering Joe was behind her, gripping her tightly and keeping a big knife pressed into her throat.

"Nice collection of knives you have there," the man said quietly, levelly, and he slid the blade ever so slightly. Enough to draw blood. Sarah twitched and sobbed. "You have a simple choice here. Let go of the gun and let my friend go. Or I cut her neck." The smallest of smiles appeared in the corner of Joe's lips. Jensen squeezed Piper tightly. "You can't imagine what a mess human body can make when it bleeds to death."

It was enough for Sarah's husband obviously. He released the gun onto the floor. Jensen snatched it quickly. Joe smiled and let the woman go. She ran to her husband and gripped at him as Jensen circled around them and towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Jensen whispered. "She's my daughter. I'm sorry." The woman started crying and Jensen had neither the hart nor the time for it.

"No, wait!" she yelled. "Please, just-" And frantically, she grabbed a bag next to Piper's bed. "She needs-" she tried, but her voice broke, she was shaking like a leaf. Just in case, Joe pressed the knife into her husband's throat this time. Jensen felt his heart break watching her, pack this and that, things Piper was certainly going to need.

He almost gave her back. Almost. It seemed so unfair to all of them.

"I'm sorry," Jensen whispered once more, grabbing the bag. Sarah tried to touch Piper, extending her arms tentatively, but twitching them back and pressing them over her lips to stop herself from sobbing. Not that she needed hiding, her face was red and eyes glazed with tears.

Jensen decided to run before his conscience kicked in, even though he knew this was the image that was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. That and Piper's ear splitting screams. She was iterrified/i. And it broke Jensen's heart all over again.

He got into the back of the car with the screaming baby and Joe followed a few minutes later. Few terrifyingly long minutes later. Jensen made sure to look at the man's hands. No blood.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Take a wild guess," Joe said and start the engine.

"What did you _do_?!"

Piper just screamed.

"Take care of your kid," Joe said and Jensen had to hold onto Piper tight again because Joe wasn't wasting any time.

"The _fuck did you do_?!"

Piper screamed from the bottom of her lungs.

"Tied them up!" Joe yelled. Piper outmatched him. "Or are you that fond of Terminal?!"

* * *

Piper was frantic and Jensen had no idea what to do. They'd been driving for over an hour now, and she refused to stop crying except for moments where it seemed as though she had exhausted herself to the point of fainting. And then she'd catch her breath and continue.

It was well past nightfall by now and it seemed like every time Piper screamed, Joe would drive faster. How the hell the police hadn't stopped them by now, Jensen had no idea. Especially because the last half an hour they'd been using the highway. Security be damned.

How the hell Kia didn't just die was an equally baffling question.

They'd just passed some houses and Joe took a quick turn off the highway. Jensen felt his hackles rise. He'd never seen Joe lose it. Not from this proximity. But after what Piper put them through, Jensen wouldn't have been surprised if he lost it himself. That didn't mean he'd be willing to do anything to his daughter. Never. _Ever_.

And that also meant that he was willing to sacrifice his own life, if that meant Joe would be stopped.

"What are you doing?" Jensen asked. Joe didn't speak, but he did glance back at Jensen through the rearview mirror.

Piper was in another bout of saving her strength, hiccuping and swallowing hard as she pulled away from Jensen, eyes puffy, face red and hands clenched into tight, pale fists. Because Jensen wasn't her father. Because Jensen was the villain here.

"Joe, I'm serious, if you-"

Joe stopped the car and only then did Jensen see where at. "She needs a bed," he said and got out of the car. He paused before closing the door, though, and he actually smiled. Jensen wasn't sure whether to be crept by it or not. Sure, Joe was looking at Piper as he did that, but that didn't help with the dilemma. "I'll get us a room. You just wait here."

This here was the level of surreal that could not be toppled. And Jensen decided this was it, his life could bear no more surprises.

Joe returned quickly, and even helped Jensen to their room with Piper's things. The room was small, with one double bed, and this was the first time Jensen realised stealing a baby carrier would have been a good option. He hadn't exactly been completely collected and sane back then when he was kidnapping his own daughter, obviously. But as he tried to get Piper settle, Joe left to get them some food, making Jensen feel all the more guilty.

Here he was, with an infant that was terrified of them. And in the end, she had a very good reason for it. He was broke and useless. And yet, Joe hadn't abandoned him yet. Jensen wasn't excluding this from happening any time in the future, but so far it hadn't. That part was weird enough.

And then there was the fact that, at this point, Jensen had no idea what he was doing. Suzy had been breastfeeding back then, and he had the general idea of when to start with baby food, but there laid his problem - _general_ idea.

The meaning of Hennessey's words became all the clearer. Well, fuck.

He dug through the bags, found some jars of food and decided it was as safe as it got. Maybe, after all this crying, and with a full stomach, Piper would finally pass out. And maybe, given a day or two, she'd stop regarding Jensen as the enemy. Maybe.

At this point, he really wished Suzy was here. She knew how to deal with these things, and not just because of the motherly instinct. She just knew how to deal with things that would normally drive Jensen mad. And when Jensen was mad, shit would happen.

Not that he'd lose his composure right now, he couldn't afford it. But still, not a day went by that he didn't wish for his old life back. He and every other loser out there.

"There, there," he whispered instead, trying to pull the lid off the jar of baby food that was supposed to be made of bananas. "Daddy's gonna feed you now. Nothing to cry about, baby." She went for the food, small fingers squeezing into the glass of the jar. She still looked timid and scared of Jensen, but some urges were more important. If he could bleed from his heart, Jensen would. No father should ever see this look in his daughter's eyes.

He placed a spoon of food in front of her lips, and she made a sound of pleasure as she ate. It made Jensen laugh, even though there were too many emotions gripping at his throat. At least somebody liked their food. One problem solved.

And if only the food could solve all their problems. Or at least, all of Jensen's problems. He would have satisfied with_ a few_.


End file.
